“Kory has all of Tony’s old cows on his ranch next door. The Almosta Ranch. I peek in on them pretty regularly.”
“But you won’t now that we’re here.”
“Depends on if the cows need me.”
“We don’t knowanythingabout cows, so theydefinitelyneed you.”
Flint’s lip curls just enough for me to know that he agrees, and he’s not happy about it.
And I straighten. I’ve been in touch with Kory. He told me not to worry about the cows, that he had space for them, and he’d let me know if I owed him anything for vet bills or food. But on top of that, I’ve done my research. “I know a lot more about—”
“Mom. Reading kid books doesn’t count. And that one episode you filmed at that farm in Ohio doesn’t count either.”
“I know the cows just go out in the pasture and graze all day, and Uncle Tony liked rescue cows, and he tended to treat them more like pets than like farm cattle, and it’s harder to care for them in the winter, but Kory has the resources and has been watching out for them.”
Junie looks pointedly at the tablecloth covering the dead cow.
I ignore it.
We weren’t here. I’m not going to get mad at the person who took in orphan cows. “We’ll make friends, and you can go help and learn from him until we decide if we’ll have the capacity to take the cows back ourselves.”
“I can take you up there,” Flint says to Junie. “Kory’s a good friend. You’ll like him.”
Junie perks up. “Does he have any teenagers?”
“Ah, no.”
“Oh.”
“He has a couple guard donkeys and chickens.”
“Guard donkeys?”
“They’re real asses.”
Junie cracks upagain.
Flint smiles at her.
My vagina launches into the macarena, because I’m that kind of cool, while my heart twists at watching my daughter smile like that at anyone who’s not me.
She used to smile at me like that.
But that was before I foisted her off on grandparents and nannies while helping Dean chase his dream, thinking it was mine, too, because I was going to be better than my parents and I was going to support my spouse.
And it sounded fun at the time. Until about the fourth episode.
Of the first season.
I should’ve quit then. I truly should’ve quit then.
“Tell us more about Gingersnap,” I say to Flint.
He flicks another dark glance at me like he was trying to forget I was here, lifts his cap, and scratches his thick dark-copper hair, then turns his attention back to Junie. “The thing you really need to know about Gingersnap is that she lived an amazing, long life, and there’s not a person in this town who doesn’t have a story about her. That cow did what all of us humans can only hope to do. She left a lasting impression, and the world’s a better place because she was here.”
Oh hell.
My vagina is asking if shorty can get low, my eyes are stinging, my heart is bleeding, and my pride has been sideswiped by a man who knows what to do in any situation—annoying, that—who clearly adored my uncle, dislikes me, and is charming my uncharmable daughter.
